


Caught in the Storm

by steggyisimmortal



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steggyisimmortal/pseuds/steggyisimmortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Peggy find themselves trapped in an abandoned house during a storm.  By themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught in the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> filled for my Steggy prompt

Peggy had no idea how they’d managed to lose their vehicle but when they’d emerged from the building guns blazing and running in a mad dash, there was nothing around except trees and shrubs. Their only option for the time being was running until their legs wouldn’t carry them anymore.

They had been due to rendezvous with the Commandos around midnight. Their lack of transportation changed their plans somewhat but they were nothing if not efficient. 

The torrential downpour that hit them around ten seemed to be Mother Nature’s way of reminding them that she was still the one in charge. 

Using Steve’s shield as a makeshift umbrella, they slowly fought their way through sheets of rain, Peggy additionally using Steve’s body as a shield by attaching herself to his back. She could barely see an inch in front of her face but with Steve’s superb vision, he’d spotted a lone house sitting hidden in the forest. 

“We can stay here until it clears up,” Steve suggested while Peggy picked the lock. He practically had to yell to be heard over the rain.

“Don’t be silly,” she told him, standing back to watch the door swing open, “We’ll stay here until morning. Dry off and regroup. If it hasn’t cleared up by then, we’ll make a new plan.” 

Steve started to protest but a glance behind him at the water flooding on the ground he quickly shut his mouth. If it had been him alone he would have continued on to his rendezvous no matter how long it took him, but he wouldn’t subject Peggy to the conditions he put his body through. Not that he thought she wouldn’t have been able to do it but he was sure she’d punch him for even suggesting something she would define as ‘utter nonsense.’

While Steve only felt like a towel that had been put away wet, it was obvious Peggy was freezing and soaked to the skin. His armor kept him well protected, not to mention dry, but Peggy had regulation army gear to depend on. 

Gear that hadn’t anticipated an impromptu cold shower.

Peggy wasted no time searching their surroundings. Luckily the house truly was empty but whoever had lived there either left in a hurry or was simply on a vacation. Peggy suspected the former. Photographs had been removed from the walls and a cursory search through closets and drawers revealed towels and darkness. 

A towel hit Steve in the face where he was fiddling with an oil lamp he found. 

“So much for enhanced hearing,” she dryly remarked, watching the towel hit the floor in a silent thump. She grinned cheekily when he graced her with a sarcastic laugh. “We should build a fire to help warm us. I don’t think anyone is close enough to investigate the source of smoke. Frankly, I’m too cold to care if they do.”

Steve agreed, stepping over to the hearth to start the task when Peggy’s voice stopped him.

“I’ve seen you attempt to make a fire before, Steve. Perhaps you should let me.”

“I’m decent at it,” he said, amusement in his tone. “It just takes me a little longer than some others.”

“Your sleeve caught fire,” she reminded him. “Howard had to make you a flame retardant uniform.” 

“And I learned how not to do that again,” he reminded her playfully. “Everything is a learning experience.”

She stood there, hands on her hips, her brow raised in anticipation. His shoulders slumped in defeat. She shimmied past him and settled in front of the fireplace. He watched as she got a fire going in two minutes flat. She wasn’t the type of person to outright say I told you so but her look said it ten times over. 

“At least I found the house in the first place,” he muttered loud enough for her to hear. She knew he was teasing her; the playful twinkle in his eyes told her he was just as glad as she was for the way their evening had turned out. 

The wind batted heavily against the house, shutters on a distant window clattering loudly now and then. A long, deep whistle came through the fireplace but the fire paid it no mind. 

He was startled when she stood suddenly and began undoing the various snaps and buttons on her jacket. 

“We should get out of these wet clothes,” she suggested, explaining her actions. “Put them in front of the fire to dry as much as they can.”

Wordlessly he nodded but made no immediate move towards his own uniform. He felt paralyzed, his eyes glued to her. When she shrugged her jacket from her shoulders, something clicked in his brain and he reached for his neck. She removed her flak jacket and tossed it in the vicinity of her pack, grateful to be rid of its weight. He shed the top half of his uniform but made no move for the bottom half. He thought it best to leave them on in an effort to save his dignity. 

And save him from embarrassment.

She made no move to remove her shirt just yet. It felt damp, more than she would like, but there was something holding her back for the time being. She wasn’t a prude, or modest by any means of the word, but she could guess from Steve’s hesitation that it was the right call to make for the time being. 

Peggy looped her jacket across a hanger she’d found in the closet and hung it from the mantle. She kicked her boots off after that, sticking them neatly on the stone seat in front of the fire. She draped her socks over the grating, fairly confident they wouldn’t fall and catch fire somehow.

She stripped off her uniform pants, hoping her long johns would be dry but to her dismay they were damp as well. ‘Oh well,’ she thought. ‘Those will just have to stay for the time being.’ 

“You’re cold,” he commented when he saw the trembles run through her body. She shook her head but he was already removing his undershirt. He held the shirt out for her to take, his stony look making it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Here. It’s dry. The uniform is waterproof, too.”

“It seems Howard isn’t useless, after all.”

She removed her own plain white t-shirt, the hues from the fire dancing in shadows across the exposed skin. Steve watched transfixed. He was aware he should avert his gaze, give her what privacy he could, but the muscles in his neck wouldn’t work. 

“Close your mouth, Captain. I’m sure working with chorus girls, you saw your fair share of flesh.”

Steve’s mouth snapped shut, unaware it had dropped to the floor. He could feel the blush spreading across his cheeks but he refused to acknowledge it. He also refused to answer her question but that had more of a biological reason behind it. His mouth felt like cotton balls had been stuffed inside. The fact that she was smiling at him just made him want to fall into a hole.

She took the proffered shirt and quickly donned it. He watched, mesmerized, when her arms disappeared inside the shirt one at a time before coming out on one side her army issued brassier. 

He cleared his throat roughly, turning away to face the rest of the house.

“Captain, I do believe you’re blushing.”

“Me? No.” He wouldn’t look her in the face, though. He started heading towards the kitchen. “I, I’m uh getting a cold, I think.”

He coughed sadly for effect but they both knew he was lying. He could be trapped in a house with the bubonic plague and come out unscathed. 

Steve took it upon himself to scour the kitchen for anything useful. There were cans of food but he didn’t read German so he had no way of knowing what was in them. He didn’t think they were desperate enough just yet to try their luck. There were jars of what he was sure was homemade jam or preserves but nothing to enjoy it with. The one useful thing he found was a bottle of whiskey in the back of a cabinet. At least it would help warm them up.

SPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSP

“Turns out the bloody idiot didn’t tie the rope correctly. So he takes off after his buddies and I’m dangling there, my feet maybe three inches off the ground, and I can feel myself starting to blackout.”

Peggy finished off her glass before holding it out to Steve for a refill.

“I know I’m just minutes, probably seconds, away from blacking out when I can feel the rope start to slide. Foolish as it sounds, I start to squirm in hopes that it’ll come undone faster. Needless to say it did and I landed graceful as a cat on my feet.” She smiled sweetly, obviously proud of herself. “Of course that only lasted maybe two seconds before I actually did black out for a moment or two.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head in disbelief at the trials she had been through. 

“I can’t believe you were actually hanged.”

“And lived to tell the tale.”

Her pride was evident, her voice jovial and showing the presence of her slight intoxication. 

The small room was warm and cozy. They had taken over the floor, moving the furniture closer to the fire in an attempt to keep the warm in that one location. They had taken up residence on the floor after they’d gathered every blanket and pillow they could find. Steve had commented it reminded him of all the forts he and Bucky had made in their childhood. 

They both had their legs wrapped up in a blanket; there was no one there to give a damn about propriety. They’d long ago established a comfortable contact. Her foot had brushed against his unintentionally and while he first moved it, the relaxed atmosphere had soon encouraged the intimate contact to resume. 

After he’d apologized for his blundering mistake involving Private Lorraine, and she’d subsequently forgiven him after a good deal of pleading on his part, they’d grown closer. They found every spare opportunity to talk. At first under the guise of strategizing but that soon fell away when it became clear they were fooling no one. They took the time to get to know one another better and simply exist in each other’s presence. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, each sipping at their whiskeys. In Peggy’s mind, it reminded her of her parents when they would sit down for afternoon tea in the parlor. They never spoke much during that time. Peggy had assumed when she was younger that it was because they had been married so long they had nothing left to say to one another. As she got older, she realized that it was because they didn’t need words to communicate. They knew each other’s thoughts and anticipated their moves. 

“I would kill for a s’more right now,” Steve commented out of the blue. His voice was nostalgic, no doubt remembering countless pleasant days past. Peggy looked over at him but his eyes were glued to the dancing flames.

“I must admit I’ve never had one.”

“What!” He turned to her, almost splashing his whiskey over himself. She shook her head, a grimace on her face like she’d just told him her deepest, darkest secret. “We have to change that. You are missing out on a true culinary classic.”

“It’s a graham cracker, a piece of chocolate, and a marshmallow,” she retorted, scoffing at him.

Steve clicked his tongue. “It’s the simplicity that makes it so good. I can’t believe you’ve never had one. That’s so un…”

Her brow raised, waiting for him to say what she thought he was about to say.

“Unhuman,” he finished weakly.

“Un-American,” she corrected, smiling. Laughing. “That’s what you were going to say. Isn’t it?”

He shook his head but they both knew he was lying. She laughed harder when he covered his face in a desperate attempt to hide his misery. 

“All right, maybe I was about to say that but it doesn’t make it any less true,” he attempted to defend himself. He shook his head again as if to say ‘you’re an idiot, Steve.’ He sat up a little straighter, a picture of the future coming to his mind. “We’ll have to fix that after all this is over.”

Peggy’s back stiffened but not with discomfort. 

“What, me being American or me never having had a s’more?” she wondered brazenly. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until her chest heaved almost violently in a desperate attempt for oxygen. 

She thought her intentions towards Steve were clear but the man could be frightfully naïve sometimes. His definition of fondue had shown her that. She believed she knew his intentions towards her as well. Every officer in their damn regiment had seen her picture in his compass, something he carried with him into every battle. But the closest they had come to mentioning anything was a promise of a dance at a future date that seemed unattainable with every passing day.

Steve slowly found her eyes. She refused to break eye contact with him. She could hear her heart pounding loudly in her ears, feel it beating right out of her chest. 

Steve was doing his best not to hyperventilate. He felt like that skinny asthmatic boy talking to a girl for the first time back in Brooklyn. He always felt like that when she looked at him like she was.

“Both?” 

He said it hesitantly, testing the waters, just loud enough for her to hear. 

She nodded, one succinct nod, to assure him he’d said the right thing.

“That sounds wonderful.”


End file.
